


Part of the Deal

by Filmsterr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baker Dean, Break Up, Broken Heart, Chuck is Awesome, Established Relationship, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Naomi is a bitch, Prince Castiel, Reconciliation, Secret Relationship, a little smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:04:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filmsterr/pseuds/Filmsterr
Summary: That wasn't going to be enough for Castiel. He didn't want to be married to someone who was "fine", who he was "fond of". He wanted Dean. He wanted compliments that made him blush, touches that made him tingle, and kisses that did things to him that were indecent for a prince to talk about in public.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote a big chunk of this on public transit and let me tell you, it is a special kind of shame trying to hide your weird fanfic writing from all of the normal adults on their way to work. Oh well. 
> 
> Also, I have been working on this foreeeever and it's my longest story so far, so I'm really excited to finally be able to share it. So please, please if you have any thoughts or feedback (positive or negative), please share! It really makes a big difference (:

Cas frowned as he stared himself down in the mirror. He hated wearing these stupid, floofy outfits, hated everything about the ostentatious parties his parents threw every few weeks for seemingly no reason. He didn't like to be paraded around as some sort of conversation piece, a bartering tool to be shown off to the other powerful families from the area.

But the worst part was the suits. They made his skin itch, felt too tight around his neck and especially on his balls. He shoved an indelicate hand down his pants and adjusted himself.

"Hmph," he sighed, lips curving downwards once more. Well, off to the slaughter now, he thought to himself as he spun on his heel is and headed for the door. 

As long as he could just stop by the kitchen first, that would make it all a little more bearable. Castiel turned out his door and down the long hall that would lead him to the back stairway.

"Oh, Cassie!" A voice called from within one of the rooms that lined the walls.

Cas stopped and rolled his eyes up into us hairline. He spun around again and followed the sound of the voice until he was leaning against the door jamb of his brother's bedroom.

"What do you want, Gabe?" He said, having neither time nor energy for Gabriel's antics at the moment.

Gabriel looked up from where he waz seated in the windowsill and smiled coyly. "Pfft," he snorted. "Nice outfit."

Cas sent an extra angsty glare his way. "Shouldn't you be downstairs?"

"Shouldn't you?"

"I'm going." He squinted shrewdly at his brother, lips pursed. "What is it?"

Gabriel's eyebrows gave a devilish waggle as he reached one hand inside inside his jacket. Seconds later, he extracted it, now holding in its grasp a silver trinket that he waved in front of his face. "Wet your whistle, little brother?"

Castiel approached with caution. He had learned from too many experiences never to let your guard down fully around Gabriel. When he was near enough, he reached out and took the flask into his own hands, sniffing nervously at the opening. "Eugh," he exclaimed in disgust. "It smells terrible. What is that?"

"Absinthe," answered Gabe quickly. "It's the sophisticated man's drink."

"It smells like rotten licorious."

Gabriel made an expression then that made it seem as if he were exhausted at having to deal with Castiel. "Hmph. Sometimes I forget that you're still a child."

Castiel sqwaked indignantly. "I am almost eighteen! You're barely older than me, Gabe!"

"And yet you're letting your teenaged emotions get the best of you," Gabe remarked with faux sageness as he slipped the flask back into its rightful home. Cas opened his mouth to retort but Gabriel started back up before he could. "Anyway, I'll be absconding up here for the duration of your little fête. If Naomi asks where I am, you tell her you just saw me, alright?"

Cas paused briefly and looked his brother over once again before slumping further against the door. "You know Mom doesn't like it when you call her that."

"Yeah, well," Gabe replied with a sardonic grin, "there's a lot of things I don't like that she does, so I guess we're square."

He had no response for that remark which he didn't feel would get him into hot water with someone, so he simply gave his brother a quick nod and ducked back out into the hallway. He shuffled quickly past his other siblings' rooms and was almost to the stairs when a woman dressed resplendently in gold approached him.

"Castiel," his mother called, voice as pristine as her choice in clothing. "Where is Gabriel? Have you seen him? I couldn't find him in the hall and there's a lovely young lady I'd like him to meet."

Castiel weighed his options momentarily.

And he was this close, _this close_ , to selling Gabe out, but.... well. He knew his brother better than Gabriel might like to think. And Cas liked Kali, Gabriel's girlfriend, the one that he was desperately in love with (seriously, a total goner). Kali, who was beautiful and dark-skinned a bartender in town.... and, in least in the eyes of their parents, wholly unsuitable for marriage.

"I actually just saw him heading down the stairs, back to the party," Castiel told her in his most earnest tone. "He just went to grab something from his bedroom."

"Ah, then. Excellent. I'll just rejoin the festivities then," she smiled and gave her youngest son a pet on the head. It was uncruel, and loving. Cas huffed out a thankful breathe of air when she moved past him straight down the hall towards the party.

He fluttered down the steps before anyone else could get into his way. His foot landed on the bottom step so quickly he almost tripped over himself. Luckily, he caught himself before he did, but not before he was seen.

"Careful over there," a low voice warned from the other side of the room. "Don't need any banged up princes around here."

Castiel felt the deep blush that quickly made its presence known on his face. "Dean," he breathed out with an undeniable smile.

Dean smiled back sweetly. "Hey, Cas."

Castiel slowly approached the kitchen counter where Dean was working, whisk in hand. "What are you working on?"

"Oh, y'know. Just some exquisite pastries for all of your elite guests," Dean replied with a wink. So charming, just like everything Dean did. Castiel felt like he might melt right there in the floor.

Dean had been working in the kitchen at the house for a few years now, since he was in his mid-teens, but he'd lived there as long as Castiel could remember. His parents had worked there for years before Cas was born, and even his little brother helped out when he could. It might not feel that way to anybody else, but for Cas, the Winchesters were part of the family.

Castiel hoisted himself up onto the counter next to where Dean stood. "Can I try a little bit?"

Dean halted the motion of his stirring hand, scrutinizing Castiel, but never losing that playful air. "Shouldn't you be out there?" He nodded in the direction of a door, behind which the sounds of idle chatter and light music could be heard.

Cas' face turned up at the suggestion. "I don't want to. Can't I stay in here with you?"

Dean resumed his stirring and let out a soft chuckle. "You've got responsibilities. They'll all be waiting on you. And besides," he added in a teasing tone, "you look so handsome in that little get-up."

Cas let out an audible groan at that. He hopped off the counter and stood on his own two feet.

"Well, fine," he sighed, failing to hide the fact that he was obviously pouting. "Can I just have one kiss first?"

He looked up with Dean with extra-wide, extra-dreamy blue eyes. He knew how Dean had a special soft spot for the puppy eyes.

But when Dean looked down at him, his face was steeled with resolve. "Cas. Your parents are right out there."

"So?"

"So," Dean shot back, "neither of us need the headache that would come if they were to find you lip-locking with the lowly kitchen hand."

Castiel knew Dean was mostly kidding, but he couldn't help the way his face fell at the words. Because they both knew it was the truth. Jeez, if Naomi didn't think a barmaid was a suitable partner, Cas hated to think what her thoughts would be on Dean.

He laid a hand gently on Dean's forearm. It was muscular, slightly dusted with flour, and touching it sent an electric spark right to Cas' core.

"Dean," he pleaded in a whisper. "Please. Just one."

Dean found himself locked in the gaze of those ocean-blue eyes. He appeared to struggle internally for a bit second, then he sighed, quickly shot a glance toward the door to the hall, and leaned in for the quickest, purest kiss he could manage.

Cas softened at the feel of Dean's lips against his, unmitigated happiness shining out from his face.

"Thank you," he whispered as he stepped back out of Dean's range, just in time for Naomi to step in through the doorway.

"Dean, how are those-- Castiel! There you are. Come on into the hall, you have quite a few families to make acquaintance with."

"Yes, mother." Castiel answered dutifully, following her lead toward the party. As he left the kitchen, he shot one last glance back to Dean. Dean sent one of his very signature winks his way, and Castiel felt a warm fluttering in his chest.

The party was no worse than Castiel had expected. He was shuffled around the room, introduced to Prince This and Ducchess of That and even a few Earls, who were the most dreadfully boring as far as Castiel was concerned. And-- oh, how peculiar-- they all had beautiful daughters of the right age and a certain social status, just in case Cas was interested in that kind of information.

He played the good and dutiful son, only gritting his teeth in moments when he knew his face was hidden. He shared a few wide-eyed glances with Anna across the room. He envied her, somewhat: being too young to worry about lifelong commitements and familial mergers and...

"Castiel!" His mother called, waving him over to another family. Cas scrunched his nose, but found himself moving toward her and the Lord of Whatever in any case.

When he finally got a minute alone, he took advantage to discuss something with his father. In contrast to Castiel's mother, his father tended to be a little more reasonable about these things. Naomi could be very.... hands-on about her children's relationships.

Actually, that was being generous. In reality, she had hovered and pestered so much during Michael's and Hester's courtships that they had ended up marrying the people she had chosen for them in the first place. And they were happy enough, at least they seemed it.

But that wasn't going to be enough for Castiel. He didn't want to be married to someone who was "fine", who he was "fond of". He wanted Dean. He wanted compliments that made him blush, touches that made him tingle, and kisses that did things to him that were indecent for a Prince to talk about in public.

"You know, Dad," he said carefully, "I can arrange these things on my own. I don't need to be pimped out to half the country."

His father fought back a chuckle. "I know that, son. You're a very smart young thing. Just like your old man." He nudged his elbow toward Castiel in jest. "But you do have to realize..."

Castiel raised his eyebrows at his father suspiciously.

" ...this can be a big opportunity for us. For the country." He grimaced, keeping his eyes focused anywhere but Castiel. "This isn't just about you, Cas. You have responsibilities."

"Yes, but.... I mean, you married Mom because you loved her, right?"

"I do love your mother. And we have a wonderful family together... But Cas--"

Just then, someone laid a hand on Chuck's shoulder, and his attention was stolen away from his son. Castiel ached to hear the end of that thought, anxious to think of what followed that "but". But the moment was a gone. So Castiel swallowed the nerves and went to see if he could find Gabriel and that magic flask of his.

\----

The familiar knock came around midnight at Castiel's bedroom door. He opened it up with a mischevious smile and tugged Dean inside by the collar of his shirt.

"You know," Dean managed to grumble while Castiel kept a tight hold on him. "Someone is gonna see me come in here one of these days and it's going to get me in a heap of trouble."

Castiel smirked. "It's possible. But I do believe scaling the side of the house up to my window would likely draw a bit more negative attention, no?"

"I could just stop coming," Dean supplied with eyebrows raised. Castiel didn't even bother to entertain the notion.

"Mm, I don't think that's an option," he hummed, pulled Dean toward him until their mouths finally met. Dean wrapped one strong arm around Cas' lower back and gripped his small body tight against Dean's own. He opened his mouth when Cas' tongue begged entry, and Cas responded by moaning deeply.

Dean pulled his head away for a brief moment to collect his breath, leaning his forehead against Cas' and looking down at him with a sparkle in his eyes. "You're right."

"Hm?" Cas said, distracted by the warmth of Dean's breath against his skin.

"That's definitely not an option."

Cas breathed out a soft chuckle. He backed off slightly, but kept himself within Dean's grasp. "Come on," he whispered, beginning to pull Dean by his hands. "Let's go to bed."

"Why, Prince Castiel." Dean feigned shock and reverence. "'Twould be my honor."

Castiel snorted. What a dweeb. He wanted to tell him to shut up, but he thought there were better ways to do it. So he pulled Dean until they tumbled onto the bed together, and he started pressing little kisses all over Dean's face, through giggles and toothy grins until everything outside the two of them was long forgotten. 

These moments, the stolen ones with the two of them in Castiel's bedroom, the young prince felt like he was so happy he could die right then. The way Dean's fingers wrapped in his hair, the hot feel of his breath ghosting over the most sensitive parts of Cas' skin.

There were so few people in his life that Castiel felt knew him, really knew him. And Dean blew them all out of the water. It was like Dean could just look at him and read his thoughts exactly. He always knew just what to say, or just where to kiss, to make Cas glow inside and out. 

Thoughts of the party and the elligible girls had been long since forgotten. It was hard for Cas to be negative when Dean was around. It was hard for him to think about anything beside hands and lips and the soft, warm smell... He didn't mind too much. 

Cas smiled widely when he felt Dean's lips brushing against his earlobe, hot words being whispered against his skin. 

"Wanna make you feel so good," Dean groaned, running his hands over the length of Castiel's body. "Wanna see all those pretty faces you make when you're all hot and bothered."

"Oh, God, yes," returned the prince in a breathy voice. "Please, Dean. I love the way you--"

Another kiss caught him off-guard, this one much rougher, more blunt than the first. Castiel acquiesced, melting into the mattress under Dean's experienced hand. 

"I love you. God, Cas, love you so much," Dean was chanting, sucking on the lobe of Castiel's ear, like the words held the secrets of the universe within them. Cas pulled their bodies tight together, manuevering Dean so their faces were mashed together, and repeated the chant against his lips. 

"I love you, want to feel you," he whispered. And the warm feeling radiating out from within the deepest part of him made him truly feel that as long as that was much true, nothing in this world could touch them. 

\----

Despite what it might seem, having a secret love affair can be really quite enjoyable. Castiel loved having this one little secret all to himself: it made every moment that much more sacred. 

Some days Cas would be simply wandering the grounds behind the house, and Dean would spring out from the behind the stable, grab him around the waist and press him up against the exterior wall. Cas would barely have time to gasp in surprise before Dean was kissing all the air out of his lungs.

Other times Cas would go down to the kitchen and just watch Dean doing his work. He loved getting to see the care that Dean out into each and every thing he made. He also loved when Dean would give Cas a little taste test, and kiss the flavor off of Cas' tongue.

It would have been so easy for someone to catch them. In a weird way, that made it so much more exciting. It lit a little fire in his young stomach and made him kiss Dean with a bit more passion each time he did it.

Cas felt so confident that he had found the person he was meant to spend his whole life with. On days he didn't get to see Dean, he could pass hours picturing the future they would share. There would be a cozy little house with a garden out back, and a big kitchen for Dean to bake in, and just enough room for the two of them and the munchkins they were going to dote over.

He wrote all of it down in a journal he kept under his pillow. He slept so well knowing that his dreams would be filled with images of his perfect future.

Dean found the journal once and teased him mercilessly. He poked and prodded, cheeks blushing hard as he read about Cas' dreams. But that was alright. He could tease all he wanted, just as long as he hoped for the same things too.

With Dean's kisses always fresh on his lips, nothing could bring Cas down. Not his siblings' insipid arguments, or the arduous dinners he had to sit through. Not even his parents could bother him, with their never-ending quest to marry him off.

The string of young princesses and duchesses had yet to cease. He smiled politely at them and kissed their hands, always playing the perfect gentleman. After all, it wasn't their fault that his heart was very much promised to someone else. Cas figured it was just his impending birthday that had hia parents in such a huff about it. He figured his just had to bide his time, and his parents (mother) would mostly forget about all this nonsense. 

There was one instance that left him with a bad taste in his mouth. It was a day that Castiel had spent out at the stables (partly for the horses, and partly for a little clandestine smooching). When he walked back into his room, he found his mother waiting there, her back to him as she stood at his desk. 

"Mother?"

She startled at the sound of his voice, and it took a second before she turned to face him. Her expresaion softened when she did. "Hello, darling," she smiled. 

Cas took a step closing, eyeing her warily. "What are you doing in here?" 

She gave him a queer look at the question before dismissing it with a laugh and a shake of the head. "I was just looking into the backyard. You've  got the best view in the house."

Cas tried to look past her body to see what it was she had been looking at. There wasn't much too see from the window, beside the old willow tree and the small house that had been home to the Winchester clan since they'd come to work for his family. 

His mother left him little time to think about it. She sauntered toward him in that graceful way she moved, and gave a light ruffle to his hair. "Never you mind," she soothed. "Dinner should be ready soon. I will see you then." 

And she continued past him without so much as a second thought. Something strange hung in the air after she'd gone, but Castiel did his best to brush it off. 

He walked over to the desk to stand where she had stood. A feeling of panic rushed through him when he saw that his journal was laying out, only partially obscured by the book that was placed on top of it. How haphazard he had been.

But Cas reasoned that his mother had no purpose for giving his drsk any more than a cursory glance. He was a good son. If she wanted intel on any of her children, surely it would have been Gabriel's room she would have been in. 

With a sigh, Cas took the journal and shoved it into a drawer. 

\------

On the night of his birthday, the family had a quiet celebration amongst themselves, per Castiel's request. Michael and Hester came home with their respective spouses, and everyone was in high spirits. They ended the evening with an ornate cake handmade with painstaking care by a certain kitchen hand. 

It was a nice night, exactly what Cas had wanted-- but frankly, he was bouncing in his seat through the whole thing. He just wanted it to be done and over already. The real celebration, the one he wanted at least, would be waiting for him in his bedroom upstairs. 

And waiting it was. 

Dean was lying on his back, perched on a pile of pillows at the head of Castiel's bed. The young prince moved slowly down his long, well-toned body, pausing to pull at the skin with his teeth in quite a few places. 

"Cas, baby," Dean whined, bucking his hips up toward Cas' mouth. "C'mon."

Cas grinned like a cheshire cat. Normally it was Dean who was in control when they played these little games. He was quite enjoying the turn of the tables. 

When he made his way down to his desired destination, he planted a sweet, tiny little kiss over the fabric of Dean's crotch. Dean hissed, and Castiel giggled. 

"You know, as prince..." toyed Cas, brushing his fingers lightly over Dean's thighs. "... I bend my knee for no man." 

Dean's eyes widened as he loomed down at Cas. 

"However," Cas drawled on, eyes going black with lust, "for you, I could be persuaded to make an exception." 

Dean nodded his head so vigorously it looked as if it might fall off. Cas breathed a breath of laughter and nosed affectionately at Dean's erection, deciding to stop his teasing and give it up already. 

He undid the zipper and took Dean into his mouth, making quick but sloppy work of it. Cas didn't know if he was very good at it-- before Dean, he had less than zero experience with all this. He'd never even seen a nudey magazine (until Dean had shown him an old Playboy a little while ago, and Cas had decided he was wholly unimpressed with the female form). But he wanted to be good. He moaned loudly around the dick in his mouth, swirled his tongue around the head and shot up heated glances to Dean. 

The way Dean raked his fingers through Cas' onyx locks of hair seemed a good sign. So did the silent, slack-jawed looks on his face, and the relentless arching of his hips. 

When Cas had him exactly where he wanted him, he let Dean slip out of his mouth and climbed quickly up his body so that there were faces were lined up against each other. 

"Dean," Cas panted breathlessly, "I think we should do it."

Dean squinted at him curiously, hips still giving little pushes upward. 

Cas leaned in and gave him a sloppy kiss. "Let's have sex."

He expected Dean to grab him by the arms, pin him down and kiss the life out of him. Or he expected payback: Dean to lavish his skin all over, alternating between teeth and tongue, til Cas was the same kind of wriggling mess he had just been. 

What he definitely did not expect was for Dean to look up at him with a face that was halfway between annoyed and crestfallen. For him to stop all the movement, all the heavy breathing. "Cas. We've been over this. You know why we can't." 

Cas sat up straight, leaving almost no room between his face and Dean's. "But that's stupid! And it doesn't natter anyway." 

"It does matter," Dean corrected, reaching down to find his shirt next to the bed. "If your parents find out... they'll freak. Premarital fling's a big deal for princes."

Cas reached out to grab the other boy's wrist. "But if it's with the person that I'm going to marry, what difference does it make?" 

His eyes were wide, pleading, and he could see the same reflected on Dean's face. Dean's eyes drifted to the hand on his wrist and he murmured, "I think I should go." 

"Dean, no." Cas started, but he could see the fixed determination on the older boy's face. Dean leaned in and dotted a cold kiss at the corner of his lips. It left Cas feeling cold, reeling from the rapid loss of heat between them. 

"I love you," Cas spoke in a low timbre, willing Dean to feel it deep down in his bones. 

He turned as he grabbed at the door handle with one hand, and Cas could see the green of his eyes shining in the dark. "I know," he said.

The light from the hallway illuminated Castiel's face as Dean exited the room. And then, just as quick, the light and Dean were gone. 

\------ 

When his mother and father called Cas down into the drawing room to speak to to them a few days later, he felt something akin to trepidation. He was, in his own opinion, something of an ideal son. He'd never been a troublemaker, like Gabe, or given to fits of drama, like Hester. His parents rarely even had to scold him. He had no idea what he'd done to merit a two-on-one sit down with his very busy parents, but it didn't make him feel very good. 

It didn't help that it had been days since he'd seen Dean- the longest time they'd gone without each other since the first night they spent together- and the lack of his normally soothing presence was leaving Cas with higher-than-average anxiety levels. 

He knocked timidly on the door. His father's voice gently gave him permission to enter. Castiel did, and found his father pacing with a drink in his hand next to a couch where his mother was seated with her hands braced on her kneecaps. 

"Castiel, sweetie," she beamed. "Darling boy." His father, in turn, looked at Cas with his face pulled into a grimace Castiel had only seen during the gravest of circumstances. 

That was a little weird. He cautiously entered the room, shutting the great wooden door behind him, and took a seat in the chair opposite them. Chuck followed his lead and sank into the couch. 

"Cas." His father said his name as if it was a whole sentence, some very important message implicit between those three letters. 

If there was a message, Cas was struggling to decode it. "What's going on?" 

"Your mother..." his father faltered, and cleared his throat. He took a shaky sip of the drink in his hand. "Your mother and I have made a decision." 

Castiel only sat, waiting for him to continue. 

"I think you'll agree that it's the best thing for the country. For all of us." 

 _Is he stepping down?_ Cas wondered internally. Leaving Michael to take the reins? That hardly seemed something that Castiel would be especially privy to, especially moreso than Anna or Gabe. 

Naomi sent an intense stare in her husband's direction, and finally he began to spit it out. "You remember Princess Joanna of Black Rock? You met her at the gala we held in May." 

Cas did remember her. She was actually one of the girls he'd enjoyed meeting more: she was pretty and proper, just like the rest, but a real spitfire once you got her away from watchful eyes. She'd strapped a flask full of whiskey to her thigh under her dress and shared it with Castiel in the coat closet. 

He smiled at the memory. "I remember her. Why?"

"Because--" his father had begun, but at the same time his mother finally threw her hands from where they were white knuckling on her knees and shouted, "You're going to marry her!"

At first, Cas spluttered. It was involuntary, and rude, the kind of noise his mother would scold him for if she weren't too occupied with smiling like a lunatic. 

Castiel's eyes went wide. "You're not serious." 

Naomi's face fell. She turned to Chuck for encouragement, but his attention was firmly granted to the ice that danced around the glass in his hand. 

"Of course we are, sweetheart." She sounded hurt, in a delicate way like a butterfly with water droplets on its wings. "She's a lovely girl. And with the military support we'd gain--"

"What about Gabe?" Cas asked in a rushed voice. "I'm not even next in line. Why not him?"

"Ha! Gabriel," his mother scoffed with a high-pitched laugh. "A lost cause, truly."

"Cas," his father jumped in. "She likes you, Joanna does. And more importantly, her parents do. You're more... Gabriel doesn't really..."

As Cas stared at the people sitting across from him, he felt all warmth leaving his body. He gaped at his father, intent on listening to the insane reasoning behind this abrupt decision. 

"It's just-- it's just something you have to do. It's part of the deal." Chuck sounded defeated. His shoulders slumped. 

Beside him, Naomi couldn't have looked more his antithesis. She glowed, her whole face alight with the prospect of her decision. 

Castiel wasn't sure which of his emotions was winning out over the rest. Shock felt most present, but hurt was right up there, and fear was making itself clearly known as well.

"I don't understand," he said at last, when his mind had had time to wrap around what they were saying. "You didn't... you didn't even ask me." 

A sound came from Naomi, it almost seemed like a laugh. It made Castiel jerk his head and drop his jaw. 

"Castiel," she said, and the patronizing tone she used alone made him want to diaregard everything she said. "Honey. we paraded every suitable girl from a thousand-mile radius in front of you, asked you to choose a bride. When you didn't... well, we dealt with the situation on our own."

"The situation?" he echoed incredulously. "This isn't some political negotiation. This is my life."

Chuck drained the last drops of his beverage and immediately got up to refill the glass. The pointed way he avoided his son's gaze was not lost on Castiel. 

Surely they must have understood how absurd this sounded. To pimp out their youngest son like some kind of bartering tool.

"But I don't love her."

The words sounded so obvious when he said then out loud, but it was all he could think to make hia parents see the situation for what it was. His mother was unphased by the outburst. 

"Oh, but you'll learn to," she told him confidently. "Your father and I did." 

Castiel looked between them, and it was as if he were looking at people he'd never seen before in his life. These weren't his parents; he didn't know these strangers. 

"No," he spoke one final time, his voice grave as if he'd put a curse of them. "I won't do it."

Then he was on his feet before they could say anything. As he ran down the long hallway, he heard his mother's voice call after him, and his father telling her softly, "Let him go." 

Castiel ran and ran, down corridors and through the kitchen, ran across the back yard until he was there, climbing up the steps of the small house in the backyard; the one he stared at nearly every day from his bedroom window.

"Dean!"

He shouted, his voice already rough with tears. His fist knocked rapidly on the wood of the door, god, he must have seemed insane.

When no one answered his call, Cas took it on himself to burst through the door and scour the house like a madman. He raced through the first floor and up the stairs. 

He exited through the backdoor, and that was where he found Dean, sitting on the back stairs, just staring out at nothing.

"Dean." His voice was raw, broken. "Dean, I was calling for you." 

Dean didn't shift his head to look in Cas' direction. He had no idea what was going on. He reached down for Dean's hand and tried to pull him up. 

"Come on, Dean. It's an emergency. My parents want to make me marry some girl. You have to come, and we can tell them. We'll tell them we love each other, and you can ask for my hand." 

Dean laughed at that, and it gave Castiel pause. It was a dark laugh, low and short, like it was sawed off. Cas tightened his grip on the wrist he was holding. 

"Dean?" 

Finally, the older boy spared him a look. He turned his head quickly, and Cas saw that his normally sparkling emerald eyes had gone dull. He could barely look at Castiel.

"How exactly do you see that goin', Cas? Hey, King Charles and Queen Naomi, I know I ain't no princess and the only money I got to my name came from your own pockets, but maybe you'd let me steal away one of your best bartering assets?" He raised his eyes to meet Castiel's. His face was blank. "I'm not gonna embarrass myself like that, Cas."

Cas yanked on his hand to pull him up but Dean stayed put. The prince heaved a large sigh. "No. You'll tell them that you love me and you want to take care of me, forever. And I'll tell them that you make me happy, and that I won't settle for anyone else."

All he wanted was for Dean to stand up and take Cas into his arms, to kiss his hair and tell him that he loved him. He'd done it a hundred times. Cas couldn't see what was stopping him now. 

Then Dean spoke again. It was so quiet Cas couldn't distinguish what he said. He made him repeat it. 

Dean sounded angry this time. "No," he said, firmly, tugging his hand out of Cas' grasp. 

Castiel felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "What do you mean 'no'?" His voice came out so small, so broken. He  hardly register it as his own. 

"What I mean, Cas," Dean spat, hard as ice, "is that you have to grow up. Go put on your big boy tights, give a shit about the people around you, and go get married."

"Dean, what are you talking about?" 

"I'm talking about you and me, separate. Separate beds, separate lives. I'm talking about what was always going to happen."

The way he looked now made Cas shrink back a bit. He didn't just look empty now: he looked enraged. 

"Don't make me say it, Cas. Just go." He turned his head away again, starednout into the black of the night. "And don't come back."

"Say what? Dean, I don't understand." 

"Don't you get it, Cas?" Dean was talking to his hands, shoulders hunched up. "This whole thing, it was just a fling. A little game to see how many dirty things I could do to the prince before any one noticed." 

Castiel listened to Dean's words as if they were coming from some undisclosed place in the distance. He waited for him to finished, and then he spoke, just barely choking out the words. "That's not true. You love me. I know you do."

"You have no idea how childish you sound right now." Dean murmured to himself, just loud enough for Cas to hear him. "I am telling you I don't want you to- right to your face- and all you can do is keep lying to yourself." 

He turned then and stood up, towering over Castiel in a way he never had before. "You need me to say it again? Fine, Cas. I don't want you. I don't want you. I don't want you."

Over and over, he repeated the phrasen forcing it down Castiel's throat from where he atood above him. Cas couldn't believe him, didn't want to believe him. He knew what he felt, what he had felt. There was no way all of that could have been fake. 

Dean said it over and over, all the while Cas was sinking in on himself. Fear gripped at him, like an icy hand lain over his heart. Even the possibility..... that Dean had... the best thing he'd ever known and what if it had all.... 

He felt the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. He began to sob, loudly, openly. Like a wounded animal. Dran stayed posted next to him ike a watchman, taking in he sight of castiel's unraveling with stony features. 

It seemed to go on forever. Then, after some time, Castiel heard a door close, far away, and then voices. Foggy, like he was listening through water. 

"Go take him home, Sammy."

A pause, then a young voice full of trepidation. "Why aren't you taking him?"

"Because I told you to," barked out, an order, followed by retreating foot steps 

And then hands. Large, but gentle. Cas pulled away from the touch like it burned him. 

"Hey, hey," the familiar voice soothed. "It's just me. Just Sam. Let's get you back to your room."

With considerable effort, Castiel rose to his feet. He didn't know where he found the strength. It felt like every thing inside him had been drained out, slowly. Painfully. 

"What's going on, Cas?" Sam asked innocently. "What happened?"

Cas didn't try to answer. There were no words left.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure it will get better." Sam had an strong arm wrapped around Castiel, steadying him whole they approached the main house. Castiel didn't know how to tell Sam that if he was certain of one thing anymore, it was that nothing, he was sure, was ever going to get better.

\------

His bed was the only thing Cas saw for a month after that. He came to appreciate it more than he ever had before: the way the blankets blocked out all the light when he wrapped them around his head; the way the pillows blocked the noise.

The other thing he grew to treasure? The lock on his bedroom door. Light and noise, sure they were annoying. But people? Them he couldn't even stand to be around. 

His parents attenpted to enter his sacntuary more than once- he'd shut that down right away. They assumed he was sulking about Joanna, encouraged him to spend time with her; then he'd see it wasn't all so bad after all.

He broke two different picture frames when he threw them at the door. 

Gabriel and Anna tried, too, but Castiel couldn't bear to see them. He didn't want to see anyone. He _couldn't_ see anyone. His world had been turned inside out when Dean said....  what he had said. Castiel had forgotten how to be a person anymore.

To be honest, he didn't care if he rotted away and died in this bed. It would serve some poetic justice.

And, he thought ruefully, a martyred son would be just as good for kingdom relations as a marriage treaty. 

A few times he got up and made his way over to the window, tried to will himself to feel better, get over it. But that was damn near impossible when everything in his field of vision reminded him of Dean. The stables where they would meet, the house where Dean broke him that night. Even being in his room felt like an emotional torture chamber. When he laid his head on the pillow, he heard phantom whispers in his ear, felt lips ghosting along his skin. It made his chest ache like someone had ripped his lungs out with their bare hands. 

He thought of revenge. Of telling his mother that Dean had made untoward passes at him, of demanding that he be thrown out on his ass post-haste. 

But, more than likely, that meant that the rest of the Winchester clan would be tossed out alongside him. Sam, John and Mary had been so kind to Castiel, all his life, and they worked so hard at their jobs. He couldn't be responsible for bring them that kind of grief. 

He burned the journal. In the bathroom sink, with a packet of matches he'd found on a midnight excursion to the kitchen. 

It was the only thing that made him feel better all week. His mother had banged on the door in a panic, shouting that she smelled fire. But Castiel ignored her, almost giving a smile at the cleansing feeling that washed over him. If it was all gone, all the evidence that Castiel had been the biggest idiot in the world, that he'd let a cruel boy into his bed and called it love, then maybe he could forget it ever happened.

The thought brought a fresh wave of both stomach curling and tears. But he wiped the tears away, a feeling of resolute assurance flooded in. Maybe he had been an idiot. Maybe he was embarassed, heart-broken, and all together used up. 

That didn't mean he had to stick around and play the fool any longer. He was an adult now, after all. 

As Castiel stood at the window, lost in thought, a knock came as his door that sounded different. Castiel turned and gave the dark wood a curious glance. 

"Uh, Cas? I mean, Prince Castiel? It's me. Sam-- Sam Winchester."

Cas chewed on his bottom lip. He hadn't seen Sam since that night. It made his eyes burn to remember. 

"I brought you some food..."

Castiel hesiatated, his feet frozen in place. Sam seemed to hem and haw on the other side of the door for a few seconds before he spoke again.

"...I think Dean will kick my ass if you don't take it."

Hearing the name said out loud was like pressing a hot iron to his heart. Why Dean would care if Castiel got the food was beyond him. Maybe he wanted to keep him along to ensure further torture the young prince.

Castiel walked over to the door and unclicked the lock, peering into the hallway. Sam was so much taller than he remembered. 

"Thank you, Sam. I'll take this." He reached for the tray Sam was holding, but the younger boy pulled it back. 

"Oh no, let me. Please," he pleaded. Cas noted that he had also perfected the puppy eyes technique he used to use on Castiel and Dean as children. 

He thought absent-mindedly that some girl will be quite lucky to have Sam someday. Then he opened the door a little wider and gestured for Sam to enter. 

The tall brunette paced awkwardly over toward the desk at the window. He set the tray down gingerly, as if placing it on a house of cards. In the corner, Castiel glanced at his travel bag, half-packed. He prayed he could avoid eye contact until Sam left his room. 

"Hey, Cas?" 

No such luck. 

Castiel mournfully raised his eyes up to meet Sam's. God, why did he have to look so much like his brother?

"I just...." Sam started, awkward and unsure. Castiel gave him nothing, hoping he'd give up and go. 

Again, luck was not on Castiel's side. "Are you alright? You just, you don't.... you don't seem very happy lately. Not like you usually do."

"I'm fine, Sam," the prince croaked in a voice that should have convinced no one. 

Sam peered down at him still, brows furrowed. "And Dean, he's been... Did you guys have a fight or something?"

 _Dean's been what?_ Castiel longed to ask. His body leaned in toward Sam's involuntarily, as of asking for him. Cas righted his position and shook his head. 

"I don't know about Dean, but I.... I have no anger toward him," the lie turned to ash on his tongue. "I'm fine, and he should be even better."

Sam quirked his head in confusion. "What do you mean--?"

"Who let this moose into the royal bed chamber?" 

Both of them turned toward the door, Cas with his mouth caught in the middle of a slack-jawed gape, Sam's face painted with just a hint of annoyance. Gabriel leaned against the doorframe, smiling mirthfully. 

"Mind makin' yourself scarce, Sammy? I gotta talk to my little bro."

Castiel started. "Gabe, I don't--"

"No problem at all," Sam cut him off. He gave one more weak smile in Cas' direction, then turned to make a hasty exit. When he'd gone, Castiel crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his brother. 

"You were not invited into my bedroom, Gabriel."

A set of raised eyebrows came as the response. "Yeah? Well, tough."

Castiel's jaw fell open, but Gabe plugged on. "We gotta talk," he said, and his tone showed that there was no room for negotiation. 

Cas grew stiff momentarily. Then, with a dramatic huff, he allowed his shoulders to slump and gestured for Gabriel to take a seat. The older prince did so, but not before pointedly closing the door behind him. 

He looked up at Castiel with clear eyes, a single question lurking behind them. Cas, not willing to give in any more than he already had, stared back.

Gabriel was the one to speak first. "So, what's up?"

Castiel fixed him with the most stone-faced stare he could muster. 

"You plannin' to starve yourself in here?"

Cas pointed to the tray sitting beside Gabriel and gave him a look that definitely implied, _You idiot_. 

"Yeah, and that's the first plate of food you've seen in a week."

Nothing but silence. 

After years of living through the torutre of Gabriel's particular brand of pranking, Castiel had learned that if his brother had any identifiable virtue to his name, it was certainly patience. He could wait endlessly with a straight face for you to notice the note taped to your back, or the plastic insect hidden on your plate...

Today, though, it seemed as if Gabe's virtue were running thin. He dragged a hand over his face and chewed sideways on his bittom lip. 

"Kali dumped me."

The words shockef Castiel right out of his deep trench of self-pity. His head immediately shot upwards, eyes searching his brother for any signs of deceit or trickery. He found none.

"When?" was all he could manage to rasp out. 

"Last week," answered Gabriel coolly. "Yeah... guess she just couldn't take it-- all this royal crap, Naomi, et al..."

Castiel felt his own sadness doubling up on itself, looking at his brother sitting across from him just then. His heart was obviously heavy, no matter how he tried not to let it show.  

The younger prince spoke quietly, managing to spare some of his pity for his brother's own broken heart. "I'm sorry," he said, staring at his fingernails.

"Nah... it's no big thang. I probably deserved it anyway. A girl like that... guy like me..."

Gabe's voice grew less and less warm until he trailed off completely. The two sat in the silence of the bedroom together: a pathetic little Broken Hearts Club of their own. 

"Anyway," Gabe started up after a moment, voice refilled with jovial vibration, "we were talking about you, weren't we? What's gone and got itself stuck up in Cassie's craw, eh?"

Castiel was both unwilling and unable to dignify the question with a response.

Finally, gaze still focused intently on his own hands, he heard Gabriel heave a sigh, and clap his own hands on his knees. He spoke again, but this time his voice was so grave it was almost unrecognizable. 

"Look, I know."

Castiel rolled his eyes at this. It was a classic Gabriel bluff. Always baiting Cas by pretending to have information he didn't. Castiel played with a loose string on his mattress, keeoinf his poker face strong. 

"I know you loved him," Gabriel said, eyes wide. "Like: really, really loved him."

Castiel's head shot up in panic. "What are you talking about?"

The look on Gabriel's face was oddly satisfied by the reaction. "Listen, I'll spare the details, but suffice to say these walls aren't so thick." He jerked a thumb behind him. "You might remember that my room is right next door?"

Coldness washed over Cas. He raked over every memory he had with Dean (it was emotional self-immolation, but he had to do it) to see if there was anything absolutely incriminating. Gabriel watched him, almost carefully, and grimaced. 

"I tried not to listen to the more.... unsavory things that went on in here, but I'm not deaf. I heard stuff. Talking, giggles, etc."

Threatening tears formed behind Castiel's eyes, poised to flow at the very least provocation. He clamped his eyelids tight and swallowed thickly. 

"And then all of a sudden your under self-imposed quarantine and I put it together with what baby Winchester said about a certain evening a few weeks ago.

"Listen-- I'm not gonna drag this out. And I swear, I'll knock his ass into next week if you want me to. You want me to?"

Castiel thought he would like that. He would like it if did to Dean's face what he'd done to Cas' heart.

But... it was such a pretty face. It would be a shame to ruin something that beautiful. 

Gabriel sighed again. "This whole royalty isn't all it's cracked up to be, huh?

"If we were normal shlubs, you and Dean would probably be living on a farm somewhere right now, and I'd be going home to Kali everynight."

" _Don't_ say his name," Castiel commanded with a sudden darkness. Gabriel's eyes widended and he raised his hands in a defensive gesture. 

"Look, little brother. There's only a few ways you can go about this: one, you man up, do what Chuck and Naomi want you to do, and go marry that nice princess." Gabriel looked like that wasn't the option he would take himself. "Two, you spend the rest of your life protesting up here in your royal bedchamber, _alone_."

Castiel stared at him with empty eyes, silently praying for this interaction tobbe over swiftly. 

"Or three," Gabriel continued, a edge of softness betraying his casual demeanor, "you go talk to that boy and convice him what an idiot he's been, tell him you'll graciously forgive his trespasses, and ride off into the sunset."

Gabe was looking at him with this hopeful air hanging around his face. It made Castiel burn wth fresh anger. The younger curled his hands into fists and spoke with clear rage. "You have no ideawhat you are talking about, Gabriel. This is not puppy love, and I am not some silly common boy. This is different." 

 _Dean doesn't want me, he doesn't_ love _me, maybe he never did_. 

"I'm just sayin'--"

"Well, don't." Castiel spit the words at him like venom. 

Gabriel sat back, looking unsure how to proceed. Castiel helped him by rising to his feet and marching to the door. "Now, get out of my room."

The older brother didn't pause. He gave Cas one final look, something that rang of brotherly concern, and quickly made his way through the open door. Castiel watched him go without a trace of sadness, and slammed the door so loudly he was sure it rung throughout the large house. 

He thanked the gods above for the lock on his door. 

\------- 

Castiel thought a lot over the next few days. He thought and thought, he ruminated over his brother's words. It wasn't as if he had much else to do anyway. 

Finally, one day as he stood near the window, gazing out over the expansive greenery of the yard, he sighed. It was a sad, deep sigh. He sounded resigned. 

So he unclicked the locked, and marched down the stairs- avoiding the kitchen, of course. He went down to the dining hall and took his seat next to Anna, asked for a glass of wine. 

Everyone tried to contain their surprise. His parents looked between each other gaping unattractively like fish. Anna gripped his hand tight under the table. Gabriel snapped his fingers for Sam and requested a bottle of wine per person, for which he was promptly scolded by his mother. 

Cas said nothing else for the remainder of the meal. Just sat and picked at his food, listening whike the others chatted about news and gossip and the like. At the end of the meal, everyone stood up and made to exit to their respective rooms. His mother gave one more lingering stare at her youngest son. Castiel pushed out his chair and began to leave. 

His father's voice caught him at the doorway. "Cas."

He turned around slowly, a look of serenity on his face. "It's good to see you're feeling better, son."

Castiel stared at him blankly. He attempted to muster a smile for his father's sake, but couldn't seem to manage it.

"You can invite Joanna over this week," he said at last. "I'd like to spend some time with my future wife."

"Well, that's great. Really great." 

Chuck sounded pleased. That was all Castiel needed. He nodded tightly and turned away, marching himself back down the long corridor to his bedroom. When he reached it, he locked himself inside again and buried his head in is pillow. 

After that, he played the role of the dutiful son to a T. He ate dinner with his parents, attended the functions required of him. 

Joanna really was a lovely girl. She was fierce and opinionated, and always laughed when Castiel didn't even realized he was being funny. He liked spending time with her. He told himself that he would make every effort to be happy. 

In the months that followed, there was no trace of Dean anywhere on the grounds. Cas never went out of his way to look for him (in fact he downright avoided some places) but he couldn't help scanning every room he entered with a wary eye. 

But there was nothing. Sam didn't mention it, and Gabriel shrugged Castiel off when he "casually" brought it up a few times. Castiel tried to forget about it, to push it to the further recesses of his memory and then set it on fire once it was there. 

But every time he sat down to breakfast, he couldnt help but notice that the pastries tasted a little different now. 

\-----

The date of the wedding approached rapidly. Castiel had excused himself from all of the planning, telling Joanna that he would be content with whatever brought his bride happiness. Which, he prided himself on, was actually not a lie. Not totally, at least. 'Happy' might be a stretch of the word, but...

Castiel was unsure of the moment when his heart changed. He truly believed that he had every intention of going through with the wedding. 

And yet...

The bag in the corner of his room never moved. It was never unpacked. Occasionally his eyes would fall upon it and something inside him would flutter as if momentarily revived.

It was just a regular evening. Castiel had taken a walk through the grounds after dinner, relishing the feel of early summer in the air. When he passed by the stable, a fond feeling came over him. He couldn't tell you why-- far more often he'd been feeling hurt and anger when he passed by these places. 

But this time... that warm feeling bubbled in his stomach, made his cheeks flush red. He remembered kisses and whispers and soft touches, and he couldn't bring himself to feel angry. He just felt... nice. 

The thought that he might never feel that again.... well it was too much for a person to bear. 

He tried to hide the way his feet wanted to rush back to his room, but he could barely contain himself. Darkness was settling around the house, he'd have to move quick. 

On his way toward the house, he passed by Sam, taking one of the horses on its nightly walkabout. 

"Hi, Cas!" he called with a toothy grin. "You look great."

Castiel would have breezed right by him, too concentrated on his destination to even ackowlwdge his presence. But, as Castiel's mind spoke in broken images-- his room, his desk, his travel bag, half-stuffed with clothes-- he was struck with a sudden feeling. He stopped walking suddenly and turned to the younger boy with words fumbling off his lips. 

"Sam, can I tell you something?"

Sam tilted his head and peered at him. Cas took that as a yes and went on, his hands neatly folded in front of him as he talked. 

"I just want to let you know how important you are to me. You're... Well, you're like my own little brother. And your parents, I always felt like they helped raise me too. You've all been...."

He trailed off. "Just make sure they know I appreciate them, okay?"

Sam's eyes went wide with worry. "Cas, are you okay?" 

Cas imagined the smile he gave Sam was hard to believe, maybe a little crazu. And just as Castiel opened his mouth to answer the young Winchester, he turned to sprint off toward the house again. 

\-------

He waited almost until midnight. It was late enough that he knew his parents would be in their bedroom, but gave him enough tine to catch the last train out of town, if he hustled. 

A note, short and sweet, was left on the desk by the window, where his journal had once lain. It was apologetic, but vague. It said that he would see them again soon. 

When he felt he had settled all of his affairs, Castiel opened his window and climbed down the wall.

Luckily it was a short drop. He didn't have much in the way of upper body strength, and he didn't want to call any unneeded attention to his--

"Where the hell are you going?"

Castiel's heart froze in his chest. That _voice_. That one that had whispered in his ears and moaned his name and it sounded so hard and so _cold_ now...

"What are you doing out here?" Castiel muttered, afraid to turn around. 

"Go back to your room, Castiel."

Cas turned slowly on his heels, heart fighting with mind as to how to react. 

So Dean _wasn't_ gone. 

"Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?" the prince asked as last. He fought to keep his voice even. It was threatening to flood with tears even just looking at Dean's face, but if he cried then he'd shriek and if he shrieked someone would come out and find him with a bag slung over his shoulder and that would only lead to a big mess of trouble. "I am a Prince, in case you've forgotten." 

Dean did not appear to be amused or intimidated by that fact. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared forward defiantly. "I'm serious, Cas, get your ass upstairs."

"You have got to be kidding me. You can't think there is any way I am going to listen to you, of all people." Anger flooded in as Cas eyed him up and down. "How did you even know I would be out here?"

"You weren't terribly subtle. All that weird stuff you said to Sammy... he told me right away." Dean's eyes shot daggers at the young prince. "You can't just run away, Cas. That's not part of the deal."

Cas balked. "What deal? Why do you even care?" 

"I just do."

Cas slumped his bag over his shoulder, sniggering to himself. Inside, he felt himself tearing apart but he was damned if he would let this boy see that. "Well, that's a very convincing argument. But I have a train to catch, so--"

Cas whipped around before he could look at Dean's face, only to be stopped by the iron grip of a strong, calloused hand on his arm. "Cas, _listen_ to me," Dean said, and his tone had changed completely. It almost... it almost sounded like he was begging. "I know you hate me, I know you have no reason to trust me, but-- please, I am asking you, _do not go._ "

Castiel stilled. Fear was holding a tight grip on him, fear that his parents would come out and find him and start asking questions. But Dean was gripping him too, and the spot where he held on to Castiel's arm burned like it would leave a mark. 

"Why?" was all that he could ask. 

Dean stared at him for a good long minute, silent. His jaw was set, but his lip appeared to be quivering. Emotion seemed to be coursing through him.

"Dean."

When he finally spoken, his answer came as a desperate yell. "Because then this will all have been for nothing!" 

"All have been..." Cas repeated after him, grasping for understanding. 

A dam had broken inside Dean. "Because you'll be gone and your mom will still kick us out and--"

"My mother will _what_?!"

"I am not going to lose you twice, Cas. I can't. Not for no fucking reason." 

"Lose me? But I... you--" Cas finally stared to gain control over himself again. Loud voices be damned. He wanted answers from Dean-- he deserved them, damnit-- and he wanted them now. "Dean, what the hell are you talking about?"

Now Dean's eye were diverted downward. He looked.... unreadable. But he wasn't as hard as he had been before. He seemed torn, confused, or something. Some buried part of Castiel wanted to take Dean into his arms and soothe him. He fought the urge. 

"Dean," He said again, no room for joking around. 

"Don't ask me why," the older boy said at last. "Just, if you care about my parents or Sam at all, you can't run away."

"You can't ask that." It came out as a plea; a bargain, a prayer. 

"You can't destroy my whole life, break my heart, and then try to keep me from leaving and tell me I can't ask any questions?" He was trying to stay calm, trying to keep his voice even but it  harder with every word. "Why do you want to keep hurting me?

"Do you hate me that much? What did I ever do to you?"

Castiel didn't want to look at Dean. His face from their last meeting-- a mask of hard edges and hurtful words-- was still burned into his memories. But the way Dean said his name then, soft, like something in his heart had been crushed.... it made Castiel raise his head. 

Dean was staring at him with a face that made Cas' heart melt into absolutely nothing. It was so familiar, a face that Cas had seen so many tines. So many late nights in his bed, when Dean had looked just like this. Was he that scared for his family? Was that what all of this was about?

"Cas," he whispered again, in that same soft voice. He approached the prince now, moving closer incrementally. Against his better judgement, Castiel let him. 

"I don't.... I never wanted this. I just-- this is how it has to be."

Cas' breath caught in his throat. He felt so terrified in this moment. Why did Dean have such a power over him?

"Says who?" He asked helplessly. "And what did you say about my mother?" 

Dean stopped his movement. He looked away once again, his hands clenching at his sides. For some reason the mention of Naomi seemed to spark something in him. The idea produced mixed feelings in Castiel's stomach.

"Dean. You owe me this. If nothing else, you--" 

"I know," Dean interrupted softly, defeated. "I know."

Castiel found himself moving incrementally closer, wanting to touch Dean. Why he wanted to, he had no idea. 

Well, that's not true. He knew precisely why he wanted to, but he wasn't about to admit that to himself. 

He stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on Dean's sleeve, his fingers just barely brushing over the fabric there. That was when Dean finally raised his eyes, focusing on the collar of Cas' jacket. He began to speak. 

"Your mom... she found your journal."

The words seemed to bounce off Castiel's ears. He couldn't process the words coming from Dean's mouth. "She.... what?"

"Yeah. She, uh, brought it to me one day. Cornered me in the kitchen. Started interrogating me about our relationship. Oh, and then she asked me if I had _defiled_ you. That was a very cool little inquisition."

It almost sounded like he might laugh at that, but he didn't. Castiel was glad; he felt sick to his stomach. 

Because oh god. _Oh_. All the things he'd written. All the details, so personal.

His mother wouldn't go snooping in his room, would she? There was no reason. He'd always been so...

"And then she told me-- in no uncertain words-- that I was a.... a..." he snapped his fingers, "a dalliance, that was the word. She said that, and that I was to leave you the hell alone effective immediately, because you had, like you know...."

Cas didn't know. He didn't know anything right then. 

"And I tried, Cas. I was so scared but I tried to tell her how I felt. Felt about you. But she told me I was gonna fuck up your whole life, and the whole country--"

"Wait, Dean, go back to--"

" _And_ she said that if it weren't for my folks and all their hard work, I would be out on my ass. And that if I wanted them to keep their jobs and their house, that I should...." 

Dean stopped there. Castiel scrunched his brows. How had this night come to this? How had his life come to this?

"Wait. Just stop. Stop talking." Castiel backed away, squeezing his eyes cold as he moved. "You said before you tried to tell her how you felt about me. What does that mean?"

Dean grabbed Castiel with both arms. Tight enough that the younger boy couldn't move away if he wanted to. He was close enough that Cas could imagine the feel of Dean's breath on face. It made his toes curl. 

"I knew I couldn't tell you what she said. It wouldn't have worked. You woulda just pulled some shit like this." Surprisingly, Dean's lips pulled into a smile as he spoke. It was fond, like he was thinking of an old memory. He pulled one hand up and moved to cup Castiel's face with it. 

"Cas, I hated what I said to you. The whole time I just wanted to make myself shut up," Dean looked down at Cas like he was made of pure light. "I love you. I loved you the whole time. I hate that I hurt you. I didn't want to, I swear I--"

Castiel was at a loss. The larger part of him wanted to throw it all to hell, to grab Dean and make a break for it and figure it all out later. But...

He shook his head. "This is not okay. You cant just do this to someone-- go back and forth and back again like it's some kind of game. Like it doesn't matter!"

Dean blached at the words. He lowered his voice to a melancholy whisper. 

"I know it matters. It's the most important thing in the whole world. Cas, I swear, you gotta believe me. I really thought that I was doing the right thing. I thought you'd get over me and move on and it would be best for everyone."

Cas narrowed his eyes. "Well I am so sorry that I went and screwed up your genius plan."

"No!" Dean yelled, louder than he had been speaking. His eyes went wide and he winced at bit as he realized where he was. "No, that's not what I mean. I just... I don't think that way anymore."

Castiel peered at him cautiously. 

"I don't... I dont want you to get over me. I mean, maybe you are, and I couldn't blame you. And maybe the best thing would be for you to go back upstairs and marry that princess and we all forget this night happened. But-- but, Cas," here he chanced a hand gripping at Castiel's and found he met no resistance, "if you're gonna go anyway, if that's what you want.... then I'll go with you."

"You'll go with me." Castiel parroted back the words without a trace of emotion. His heart was thumping and he couldn't decide which feeling was winning out. 

"Wherever you want," Dean said earnestly, and it was clearly a promise.

"But you just-- your family--" The words failed Castiel because Dean looked so much like he meant it, and his hand was touching Cas' and everything, all of is just felt so good and Cas didn't want to say no any longer. 

"I know," answered Dean, "I know. And I don't know what I can do to fix that, to help them. But I know that I was wrong, and I hurt you, and I _do_ know how to fix that. And if you let me, I want to spend every second of the rest of my life showing you that I love you, that I always did, I never stopped even for a minute, Cas, not even--"

And then he shut up. And Castiel shut up too, because their mouths were too busy finding each others' again. Castiel had surged forward, throwing himself into Dean and letting his hands grab at Dean's ass and his lips part where Dean's did and everything in him just melted, exactly the way it used to, as if nothing had changed at all. He heard himself moan into the embrace and felt Dean's hands tightening at his waist in response. 

God, it felt good. How he had ever lived without this was a truly unfathomable mystery. 

After a moment, he felt Dean pull back and tried to chase the retreating lips with his own. Dean chuckled soft and pressed a kiss against Cas' cheek. 

"I love you, too," Cas gasped out. 

Dean smiled, rubbing one thumb over the apple of Cas' cheek. A strange look passed over his face, just for an instant, and then he smiled again. "So. Where are we headed?"

A million things were running through Castiel's head in that moment, almost all of them centered on the boy standing in front of him. It was difficult to sift through all them- to contemplate the important question he'd been asked. Somewhere, in the back of his brain, his brother's annoying voice was chirping at him. 

_There's only a few ways you can go about this._

Castiel considered the words. The weight of his shoulder bag had seemed to double since he had come outside. But.... well, he looked up at Dean, who was fixed on him with eyes that just radiated love and goodness and everything he ever wanted. 

 _...and ride off into the sunset_.

Okay. This probably wasn't the way the advice had been intended, but for Castiel right then, it was as clear as a bell. 

"We're not going anywhere."

Dean's face fell. Worry, fear, confusion all passed over his features. Castiel grabbed at his hands tugged him toward the house. 

"Cas, I don't understand."

He received nothing but a smile. Castiel was practically running, tugging Dean along like dead weight. They sprinted past guards and up the stairs. Straight past Cas' room, which seemed to level Dean with an added punch of confusion. 

When they arrived at the master bedroom, Cas came to a halt. He offered one last heady, love-drenched smirk to his companion, and threw the door without a second thought. 

"Cas!" his father's voice called with rough surprise, just as Castiel proclaimed with confidence, "Mom, Dad--"

A light switched on beside the bed. Now that they were fully illuminated, Cas could plainly see the bewildered expressions on his parents' faces. Their eyes then fell to Dean, standing behind him, still linked at the hands, and their faces changed. His father's to confusion, his mother's to horror. 

"Castiel," Naomi began, perhaps as a warning, but her young son wasn't going to allow any of that. 

"I love Dean," Cas proclaimed proudly, daring them to interrupt. "I love him very much, and he loves me too, and we're going to be married."

He paused to toss a glance over his shoulder at Dean, who was frozen in place. His green eyes flicked up, wide, as of asking _oh is it my turn?_  "Oh," he said, somewhat surprised. "Yeah? I mean, yes. Married."

He relaxed when Castiel squeezed his hand, and they shared a comforting smile.

Then, renewed with energy from Dean's support, Cas turned back to his parents. "I'm not asking you to like it. But if you try to stop us, we will leave, and we wil go so far away that you never have even a glimmer of hope to ever find us again."

The punctuation of the declaration seemed to be the heavy silence which descended over the room. Even Castiel was reeling from the rush of power that had overtaken him. Maybe he was cut out for this prince thing, after all. 

Chuck was the one who first broke the weighted air in the room. He muttered lowly, as if only meant for himself. "Well if we'd known that was the problem, we would have been looking for elligble _princes_."

Somehow, Castiel managed a chuckle. He had to hand it to his father: he always had a way to make everything seem lighthearted. "Dad, you could have searched the world over and I still wouldn't have been happy. It's Dean or  no one," Castiel spared another puppy- eyed look over his shoulder, "he's it for me."

Dean returned with his own brilliant smile. Cas wanted to grab him in for another kiss, but there'd be plenty of time for that later. The rest of their lives, in fact. 

However. Turning around once more to face his parents in their bed, it was clear not everyone had such warm, fuzzy feelings about the young lovers. Naomi sat with her back straight as a rod, lips curled in obvious disapproval. 

"Castiel," she began, and her tone alone made Cas' stomach curdle. "You are far too young to have any idea what you are talking about. You're barely eighteen-- of course you think you're in love! But, this boy-- how can you even trust him? For all you know he could be after you for your money and your title--"

Castiel burned with rage listening to her drone on. 

"Really. A clandestine romance with the help. I never thought you'd be so... so silly, Castiel."

"Now, Naomi--" Chuck attempted to soothe his wife, but Castiel burst in before he could finish. 

 "Mother, how _dare_ you speak to hi--"

A hand on his forearm silenced Castiel. He looked up, meeting Dean's eyes with his own. He found something unreadable in Dean's face. Trepidation, maybe, or bravery. It was hard to tell. 

"Cas. Please, can I?" Dean asked softly-- and it really was a question. He wanted Castiel's permission to step in.

Cooled off slightly, Cas nodded. Dean acknowledged it, then looked past him to his parents-- specifically, Naomi. 

"With all due respect, ma'am-- er, Queen," Dean inched forward awkwardly, "you've known me all my life, and you know my parents. I like to think you've-- you and the king-- you've got a good judge of character, and you've put your trust in us for over twenty years."

She hadn't given any indication that she had registered the words. Still, Dean went on. 

"And, furthermore," Cas tossed him a look for his weird choice of wording, but let him go on, "I wouldn't care if Cas was a prince or a pauper or a plumber or a troubadour, even. I could give a shit about money. I love him. And I'm not happy without him, and he's not happy without me." 

That time, Castiel couldn't resist. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on Dean's lips, right there in full view of his parents. It tasted like the sweetest rebellion. 

"No."

Cas closed his eyes in frustration, tears burning at the sound of his mother's insistence. 

"Absolutely not. I forbid this. Castiel, your father and I--"

"Stop, Naomi."

Everything stilled in the room. Naomi went stiff as a board, gaping with open mouth at her husband still beside her in bed. Castiel, too, became tense. He gripped Dean a bit tighter for support. 

"J-just stop all this," Chuck spoke, a mix of anger and exhastion burning behind his words. "You know what I forbid? This. You. You are being absurd right now. And you know what? Kind of a bitch."

Dean bit off a laugh in his throat, but Cas heard. Chuck moved finally to focus on the two of them, standing alf in the hallway, and all of a sudden Cas felt as if he were a child, no more than ten years old. Dependent on his father's mercy to save the day. 

His face was numb but he tried to send a smile to his father, even if just in spirit. Chuck looked back at him so warmly, so fondly, Cas felt the message had been received.

"Cas is our son. His happiness, that's what we should be working for, hoping for. What, you want to choose some-- some silly business transaction over him? You want to drive him away?" 

The boys exchanged a cautious, hopeful glance between them. Across the room, Naomi was-- very minutely-- allowing some of the tension to drain from her haunched shoulders. Cas monitored with rapt attention her every move as she swept her eyes over the young lovers, turned away abruptly, and offered a curt nod to the king. 

Chuck responded in kind and released a loud sigh into the room. When its echo had died out, he turned pnce more torward the doorway. 

"Now, Mr. Winchester."

Dean's hand clenched nervously at Castiel's even as he took one large step forward. Cas' stomach swirled with anticipation for his father's next words.

"Why don't you come pull up a chair and we can discuss your intentions with my youngest son?" 

If Castiel thought he had known true happiness when he learned that Dean loved him for true, then he was completwly unprepared for this moment. The hand at his side went limp and dropped away. But when Cas brought his gaze up to meet Dean's, he found the other boy's face shining with uncontained exuberance. 

"Sir," he said with incredible confidence, unable to tear his eyes away from his love, "it would be my honor."

\-----

"Servant! Oh, servant boy!" 

Sam popped his head into the dining room, eyesbrows furrowed in a decided lack of amusement. "I'm not your servant, Dean. I don't even _work_ here anymore."

"Nonsense!" Dean declared him his seat, his voice puffed up with false bravado, "I'll have none of this insolence. Castiel, have this insubordinate fool executed at once!" 

"Dean!" cried Cas through a hail of giggles he could scarcely control, "we don't execute people anymore."

Dean frowned. "Really? But he insulted the crown prince! There has to be some sort of punishment."

Another wave of laughter from Castiel, as he added just a hint of scolding. "You're not the crown prince, Dean."

The curve of Dean's mouth deepened, but the mischievous twinkle in his eyes remained. "Oh. Then who is?"

"Michael, you dunce," answered Sam from the doorway. Dean whipped around quickly to reprimand him. 

"Don't call me a dunce, commoner, I'll banish your ass!" 

Then just as quickly he turned back to Castiel and his face was serene as ever. "I'm not the crown prince," he contended playfully, "but I am a prince."

Castiel hummed happily, a warm feeling settling in his tummy. "Yes, you are a prince," he agreed contentedly, leaning in to place a few more kisses  Dean's patiently waiting lips, "you're my prince. My beautiful, wonderful, kind, courageous, perfect _husband_."

Dean's cheeks flushed bright red at the list of compliments bestowed upon him. On the last word, though he glowed with joy, giving Cas a proper waggle of his eyebrows before going in for one more kiss. 

"Eugh," Sam groaned. The two lovebirds looked up at him: one wearing a look of minor shame, the other of annoyance. "Next time you call me in here, at least warn me before you start making out all over the place."

"Why are you even still here, anyway?" returned Dean with an eye roll. 

"Gabe wanted to show me his latest score from poker night with the princesses." The way Sam's cheeks went bright red at the words indicated just what his winnings might have consisted of. "But I can't find him. Have you seen him today, Cas?"

"Oh I'm sorry, Sam. I think he was going down to visit Kali today," said Castiel, though his voice hummed with pleasure as he spoke the words. 

Sam grumbled, an air of adoleacent angst hanging about him. "Everyone thinka being in love is _so great_ , but all it means is that I'm bored all the time."

Dean, still gazing adoringly at Castiel, tossed over his shoulder, "Sam. Don't you have a shiny new house of _your own_ to whine in?"

Indeed, he did. Once Castiel and Dean's engagement had become official, the king and queen realized how embarrassing it would be having your own in-laws on your payroll. So they (lovingly) gave the Winchesters the boot, used their influence to find John and Mary new careers to which they were well-suited, and even helped them pay for a new home suitable for shared grandchildren to someday play in. 

Castiel had been surprised, pleasantly, by the kindness and acceptance his parents had shown, especially considering the whole deal with Joanna (who, by the way, was the first to line up and offer her congratulationa to the happy couple. Castiel had felt a nagging guilt, even despite her kind words, until she shared a little smile with one of her bodyguards that Cas imagined looked like a lot like they way he looked at Dean.)

Now, they were even helping Castiel and Dean prepare for the start of their life together as a married couple. 

Speaking of which...

"Oh, Dean!" Cas exclaimed. "I forgot. I have a present for you."

The sparkle in Dean's eye grew. "A present? What for?"

Cas' grin took on a mischievous quality. "It's a wedding present."

"A wedding present, a month after our wedding?"

Cas rolled his eyes. "Do you want it or not?"

"Of course I want it," Dean answered without hesitation. "God, I hope it's _very_ innapropriate. Sam, scram."

"Actually, we're going to be going," Castiel corrected, lacing his fingers betweens Dean's strong, calloused ones. Together, they stood, and Castiel waved a small goodbye to Sam and he tugged Dean down the hall.

"We're going to need your car," Castiel added as they trodded the hall. 

To which Dean tried to tell him, "it's _our_ car now, isn't it?"

Cas turned his head slightly, just catching Dean's brilliant smile at the corner of his eye. "No.... it isn't."

That car was quite possibly the only thing that rivaled Castiel for Dean's affections. Probably because it was one of the only nice things he had all to himself, outside of his relationship to the prince-- and he cared for it as if it were his own flesh and blood. Cas certainly wasn't to rob him of that. 

Also, Dean was terrible at sharing. When you're married to someone, you learn these kinds of little about them. 

In any case, they climbed into the Impala (after Dean had half-heartedly offered the keys to Castiel, which he politely refused). They drove for nearly half an hour; long enough that the suffocating air of the house cleared away entirely. The houses and businesses thinned out, until the vast cerulean sky was all that could be seen behind the line of the trees. 

Castiel then directed Dean to turn right, onto a private road that stretched and stretched until it turned into a dirt path. When they could drive no further, Dean brought the car to a stop and killed the engine. He turned his body toward Cas. 

"What is this?"

"What does it look like?"

Dean peered sideways through thick eyelashes. "A house."

"Ding ding. You got it," Castiel teased, thought he could barely contain his glee. "It's a house."

He dropped his voice low (maybe a little self-conscious?) as he added "...it's our house."

Dean stared up at the facade of the house like it was an ancient temple, or the best toy he opened on christmas morning. Still, Cas sat beside him, holding his breath, waiting for his husband's reaction. 

 "Awesome," he exhaled after some time. He really did sound filled with awe. "Can we go in and see?"

Castiel let out a nervous giggle. "Of course we can. It's our house."

He had barely finished his sentence before the car door flew open and Dean was bounding across the lawn toward the entryway of the house. Castiel followed behind at a more leisurely speed, pausing to sniff at some of the flowers that hung on the fence outside.

Dean was pacing between the rooms, his eyes feasting on all the new sights before him. He turned his head toward Cas as he joined him in the living room. "It's all decorated. Who picked this stuff out?"

"Pamela, she's done all the family houses," supplied Castiel, and then with a hopeful air, "I helped."

He watched nervously as Dean moved all round the house, touching furniture and eyeing artwork on the walls. Finally, when he could no longer stand the waiting, Castiel piped up, "Do you like it?"

Dean stopped his touching and his walking and his eyeing, planted his feet in the middle of the kitchen and stared open-mouth at Castiel. He took several broad steps across the room until he was standing right in front of his husband. He wrapped his arms around Cas and pulled him in to a heated embrace. 

When they separated, he looked up with pure love written on his face. "Cas. This is incredible. I barely even had my own room growing up. Now I have my own _house_."

Cas giggled happily at the thought. Providing for Dean, taking care of him made Cas happier than anything else in the world. His fingers played with the buttons on Dean's shirt as he smiled inwardly. 

"Although..."

Cas' eyes shot up. What could possibly be wrong? 

Dean pulled Castiel tighter and whispered playfully into his ear. "No stable, I notice. Where will we be able to play our games of The Prince and the Stable Boy?"

Cas went hot all over, arousal pooling in his stomach at the same time he felt overwhelmed with embarassment. 

"Dean--" he began to scold, only to be cut off when Dean leaned in and captured his lips again. They kissed leisurely in their big open kitchen, sunlight from the windows washing over them. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Castiel relished the fact that their time together was no longer relegated to quick visits in the night. 

Cas leaned backward, smiling up at this man, this person he loved more than he thought his heart could contain. "You know, you don't have this place _all_ to yourself. You do have to share with me."

"Aw, damn," Dean rolled hs head to the side, "that's gonna be a big deal breaker for me. Are you sure I have to?"

"Mmhmm. And you know eventually..." Cas trailed off as his eyes trailed to the kitchen floor, and he could swear that he could almost _see_ little footprints on the ground. "Pitter patter. Baby feet."

"Sounds awful," Dean murmured,  closing the space between their mouth slowly, "don't know how I'll live with that."

Castiel let himself melt against Dean, his husband's strong arm curling around him. His mind went back to stolen nights and tearful exits and even one half-assed engagement. He had tried so hard to reconcile what he wanted with his position, with the responsibilites with he was entrusted. 

He wasn't sure how he got so lucky. Dean, his parents, Gabe, even Joanna: it was if he'd tricked the system to have it all himself. But he figured: when it's all this good, you don't get to question it. It's just part of the deal.

 


End file.
